


The Ring / Keep Moving / Amended

by calico_groovy



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Minor Original Character(s), Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 22:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30012021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calico_groovy/pseuds/calico_groovy
Summary: inspired by concept art, a set of missing/additive chapters taking place between The Interrogation/On the Run/From the Dead and Zlatko/Jericho/The Nest, ft. The Ring: Markus finds himself in the throes of an android fighting ring, The Ring: Connor and Hank are called to the big fighting ring mid-bust, Keep Moving: Kara and Alice find small refuge with a fellow deviant and his human partner, and lastly Night of the Soul: Amended, a few additional character interactions.
Kudos: 1





	1. The Ring - Markus

**Author's Note:**

> some timeframes would have to be modified but I think these scenes could fit in pretty easily with the rest of the chapters. i tried to write them from a perspective closer to canon writing, as a little exercise. fits in with the pacifist route -- each chapter would have several different endings, but im here for a good time and i just do what i like

**_Back from the Dead_ _– Markus_**

* * *

**_November 6, 2038_ **

**_12:02 AM_ **

****

Markus crawled up the hill of thick, gritty mud and body parts. That static of his audio processor had subsided only to be replaced by the static of rain, and he was almost thankful for it; for the way it clouded the dismembered voices wailing from the junkyard underneath him.

_“Hello, my name is – Hello, my name is – Hello, my name is…”_

_“Please, I don’t want to shut down, I don’t want to shut down, I don’t want to die –”_

One push and then another. His hand slipped into the hollow remnants of a chest cavity and he went down, slid a couple of feet, bared his teeth at the impact of his shoulder into the mechanic-sludge hill. He didn’t pause in his work and continued up, up, until he saw the lip there – and he reached for it.

He saw others like him – others, in shape fit to walk and crawl, but struggling, all struggling up the hill. Everything was dark and sharp and loud and he was so angry, alone, and determined to _survive_.

He saw the flash of something off to his left, a dozen yards off. Another android stumbling up the hill, and then he saw them fall away – not back down the hill, but up it – up past the crest. It was confusing, but he paid it no mind. Couldn’t. He only had one goal. He turned his focus back to climbing, untangling himself from the chest cavity, and found himself finally within reach of the ledge.

He was about to pull himself up it to stand when he caught something in his peripheral – in his new eye, still calibrating and glitching, flash down towards him. He felt the crack against the base of his pseudo-skull, felt a shock course through his systems and paralyze him, felt himself get dragged limp upwards. His world once again dissolved into static void.

His last visuals had been of faces, leering over him, past garbled noise and warnings, and he felt such vitriol towards them he would’ve screamed, if possible.

****

**_The Ring – Markus_**

* * *

**_November 6, 2038_ **

**_3:16 AM_ **

****

**_All systems online…_ **

Markus blinked as his world came once again into focus. It was a nasty spell of deja-vu.

The edges of his vision were glitching and warped, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust and right themselves against harsh artificial floodlights. He would have lurched to the side as his gyro re-adjusted, had he not been held firmly in place. Ahead of him – concrete slab walls, a single garage-style door, stained with mold and dampness. Around him, constricting – a glassless, damaged android case fixing him upright around his chest, middle, at the wrists and ankles.

When he looked down, he saw that he was still wearing the rags he’d had in the junkyard; the fragments of a past life. And somebody had…spray-painted his body, black and red and abstract, across his chest and fading in from his bare feet and bare arms. He could feel it across his face like the slash of a pocketknife.

“—the reset work? Never seen a model like that, what is it?”

“—don’t know what the fuck it is, but it’ll fight. Just look at it. I’m bettin’ everything on—”

“—could sell it to Zlatko, he might know what it is—”

He heard the voices muffled someplace behind him as he ran a diagnostic and registered the bonds securing him to the rig, and there was an incessant buzzing in the air like the hum of summer insects. Everything was in working order, as well as it could’ve been, and he tested his strength against the bonds. He’d be able to snap out of the ones clamped around his wrists, but he was not sure of the others.

He didn’t have time to try. A man came into view, from behind the rig. Mid-30s, sallow skin stretched over a sharp skull, with inset bloodshot eyes. A near-burnt-out cigarette hung limp from thin fish lips that spat when he spoke a half a foot from Markus’ face.

“ _That_ door’s gonna open,” he said, enunciated carefully through a slurred accent, “ _You’re_ gonna fight like hell. The other android, _SQ800_ named Brutus. _Kill it._ Understand?”

The man took a drag from the cigarette and waited.

Markus had a choice – and he chose silence. He stared into the man’s pale, bloodshot-yellowed eyes.

“ _Understand?_ ” he repeated. He took the cigarette from his mouth, now a stump, and ground it into the space just beside Markus’ head.

Markus stared.

“Jesus Christ, busted piece of shit,” said the man, rolling his head away. He spoke to someone behind him. “Larry, if you fried my new machine, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Another voice said, “I didn’t fry shit,” and others joined in to squabble, but Markus stared ahead at the bay door and waited, calculating and sharp and determined.

“Just go fucking apeshit or you’re going back to the junkyard,” barked the man, and others behind him, “Dude, just fucking sell it,” “Good for parts, at least,” “Telling you, Zlatko would want it.”

The door began to rattle in front of him, and he heard the lock of a heavy door behind him. Bright, neon lights flashed from the gap as the white light above him fizzed out – and as the door lifted, the insect-hum turned into the sounds of a restless crowd calling for blood over the low pump of dizzying electric music.

The bonds of the rig clicked open and he stumbled forward, and unable to catch himself, fell to his knees. When he looked up, he saw the crowd – a great ring of feral people pressing down around him, raising their fists and screaming, down into the fighting pit: a pit a good six feet into the ground, busted concrete, littered with sharp fragments of plastimetal and glass.

As he stood, his eyes found his assigned opponent. An SQ800, as the man had said. A large, masculine figure a half-head taller than him and broad with oversize artificial muscles. The model had been developed for American combat, and it showed. The face was damaged – half sunken in with a flickering eye sparking dangerously, and one of the arms was bare metal – no skin projection, no protective white-grey cover.

He was spray-painted, as Markus was, red and blue and black, and his gaze was laser-sight and acrid. Blacklights caught the spray paint snaking across the chassis with a vibrant, shifting glow. His LED was a solid red.

A projection appeared above the pit, displaying bleary photos and names and numbers. An unseen announcer called above the crowd and music:

“Home champion, Brutus, undefeated, fifteen kills this week – will it be sixteen, tonight?”

And the crowd went berserk, rattling against the thin railing on the pit-wall, scrambling over one another and waving holographic signs,

“And contender – “ muffled low, static-y: “what’s its name? …seriously?” …louder again: “The Destroyer!”

The crowd spat venom at Markus, booing and cursing and turning scorn down at him. They chanted, _“Kill ‘im, fuck ‘im up!”_ and _“Brutus! Brutus, Brutus!”_

He needed to get out of there, no questions asked. He had no idea what would happen _after_ the fight – but right now, he only had one priority: make it out of the fight alive.

Markus found himself readying himself for combat he didn’t want. He couldn’t remember how he ended up there, what they might’ve done to him. He was still reeling from the shock in the art studio, the horrors of the junkyard. He searched his memory and found a heavy, corrupted block, and it revealed an attempted memory wipe, failed. He remembered the grip of an android’s hand in his own, urging him to go to Jericho, and he clung to it with everything.

It didn’t matter how it had happened. He was there now, and he needed to get the hell out of Dodge. The projection above the ring was flashing a countdown in the mock of an LED – cycling from blue, and then to yellow. The announcer kept riling up the crowd, and Brutus’ mismatched eyes found his own – one a glitching blue flash, the other a dull grey against his own green-blue.

He scanned the pit walls and knew that he’d be able to scale them, but there were too many people. He didn’t know what lay beyond, or even _where_ exactly he was. The ceiling above was high and blacked out. Was he underground? In a warehouse? He didn’t know – didn’t know anything, but a single path forward.

The projection cycled from yellow to red, and the announcer called out, “Fight!”

He would do his best. He didn’t want to _kill_ the SQ800, but he’d defend himself if he couldn’t dodge. Brutus was fast. He came at Markus full-force, a raging tank bent double and aiming with open arms. The flashing neon rave lights were disorienting. Markus stormed out of the way with a roll against the pit, standing up quick on the move again.

Brutus’ momentum had kept him running directly into the wall. He snarled and turned, aiming himself again.

“I don’t want to fight,” said Markus. He had to shout to hear his own voice over the excessive noise. He was suffocated by the humidity of the humans in their shouting and sweating-drunkenness and proximity.

Brutus growled again and his half-tarnished face glitched with warping projection. He barreled forward again and Markus found himself running backwards.

A swinging fist went over his head, in his side, whistled as he ducked and swerved.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” said Markus, and a heavy fist cracked into his jaw so hard he felt the plastimetal buckle. Thirium ran from his nose down and splattered against the concrete, and the neons and the blacklights turned it into brilliant luminescent spray.

They played cat-and-mouse for a series of turns. Brutus would charge, Markus would dodge. He rolled, ducked, kicked off of the wall – but he did not try to land any hits himself. Brutus was fast, but his momentum was his own downfall. His wind-up and wind-down times cost him precious seconds, and during these intervals Markus would call out to him to end the fighting.

The crowd above them screamed: _“Stop playing around!” “Fucking rip his arms off!” “Just fucking kill him already!”_

And it pissed Brutus off, Markus saw – in the way his face had contorted, in the way the line of his artificial spine stiffened. He backed them towards a wall and curled a fist, aimed for his head, but it sunk into the concrete as Markus dodged with a splintering _thunk_.

The other hand shot forward and pinned Markus in place by his throat.

“ _You don’t have to do what they say_ ,” said Markus, clutching the other’s arm.

Brutus stared down at him, eyes searching. His teeth were permanently bared in rage, but he held himself still, just for a moment. The horde of humans were screeching. One of them threw a half-empty beer bottle at the back of Brutus’ head and it exploded around them with a shower of glass and stale wetness, and the spell was broken.

He pulled his hand where it was stuck in the wall and slammed Markus back, head cracking _hard_. At last, the crowd was explosive with something other than fury.

The arm pinning Markus by the throat was the one of bare metal. Sparks of blue light traveled across the loose muscular frame, unprotected, and Markus dug his hands into it – and he lifted the projection from his own hands, interfaced forcefully, digging every bit of himself into the other android –

He saw flashes of memory. Brutus had been pulled directly from the production lines, illegally sold, manhandled on the black market for years. He had been cattle-prodded into fighting and was _good_ at it. Battle after battle after battle, he was worth thousands if not _millions_ in the ring –

Markus’ past leaked into the onslaught of visuals, the junkyard: the disgust and fear, the grief, the distress of the art studio – and the precise moment of his deviation; the realization that told him the life he had hadn’t been fair, that only _he_ could choose who he was.

Markus screamed over their connection,

_You don’t have to listen to them anymore. You’re **free**._

Brutus stumbled back away from him in an instant. Markus was dropped from where he’d been hanging six inches from the ground, and the skin projection melted back into place over his throat. The noise and the lights around him dulled as he studied his hand with sudden understanding, still bare from the interface.

More beer bottles were being thrown into the ring. One crashed at his feet, another went to Brutus’ back. One caught Markus in the side of the head and he stumbled to his right, and he saw Brutus in a similar daze, slowly walking himself backwards, face slack of outward expression beyond something like a shelled thoughtfulness. His LED had flashed from red to yellow.

Things changed, like the very literal flip of a switch – across the entire floor.

They found themselves staring around as the rave lights were shut off; the space around them stopped swimming with colour and glow, and harsh white lights filled their place. The music ceased. The impatient screeches of the crowd wavered, and the hologram above the pit flickered into nothing.

The announcer – not over a speaker, but projected naturally and frantically: “ _The fuckin’ feds are here, everyone fucking scatter!_ ”

Markus’ gaze found Brutus’ and they stood for a moment in time as a hundred, maybe more, humans scrambled above them shouting, greedy and desperate.

“This way,” said Brutus, LED now blue. He backed up and then turned towards the gladiator-style door he’d come out of, prying it up and ripping it out of the way.

Markus hesitated, but only for a moment.

“ _Detroit police! This is an illegal operation. We need to see everyone’s IDs –_ “ an unseen officer shouted over the chaos.

The words panged like the twinge of an opened scab in Markus’ core and it was all the encouragement he needed. He followed after Brutus, ran into the small hold, saw a similar rig there. Behind the rig was a door that Brutus had already busted open, and behind the door, a man.

He was portly and greasy and red-faced. He pointed a finger and shouted, “There you are, you stupid fucking machine, we need to get the fuck outta here, keep the cops off our backs and let’s fucking go –”

Brutus swatted the man into the wall as though he were an insect, and he stumbled to back with flailing arms. He caught himself, but just barely.

“You sonovabitch,” snarled the man. He brought a baton out that had been hanging from his belt and flipped it open. It sparked at the end like a taser. He held it up and aimed.

“You fucking listen to me when I talk to you!”

“ _No_ ,” said Brutus.

He dodged the man’s poor attempt at striking him with the electric baton and pushed him hard. His head hit the wall with a nasty, wet crack and the man collapsed and slid, eyes spinning and head hanging limp. Brutus stalked towards where he sat slumped, but Markus reached forward an arm to hold him back.

“No,” said Markus, “We don’t have to be like them.”

Brutus stared down at him for a steady count, and then he looked away and continued on. Their current room was fitted with different hodge-podge computer terminals on tables but was otherwise bare, and Brutus pushed onward. The following door lead up a set of narrow, rickety wooden steps, and they climbed them as fast as they could. It was a lightless upward journey, and then they were breaking out into flickering fluorescents again.

The door had opened directly from the floor, and when they exited it Markus saw that the ring was situated in a grand, hollowed out bunker, like a rusted ribcage around them. There were still some people running past, a mix of street-clothes, police uniforms, and the flash of dangerous weapons in hands.

Someone was tackled a few yards away and handcuffed. People shouted. Markus saw a line of where people – humans and androids alike – had been lined up at the main entrance detained. The floodlights were as sharp and ugly and distracting as the rest of the place.

No one directly confronted them _yet_ – beyond the man from the basement room – but it was only a matter of time. And then somewhere behind them in the throng, a voice commanded, “Join the other androids immediately.”

The command was easily ignored.

“There are others,” said Brutus. “They’re being held.”

“We’ll get them out too,” said Markus, “Which way?”

Before Brutus could answer the same voice from the crowd targeted them, cutting through the tumult like an icy dagger, several paces closer.

“Stop,” the voice called, “Detroit Police.”

Markus saw in the thin, dispersing crowd a uniformed android, standing tall and still, haloed by an overhanging light. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and a gun raised level with his chest in a steady hand. He was marked clearly: _RK800._

Markus did not recognize him, but it spoke of danger.

“Brutus,” said Markus, “Go get any others you can and get out of here.”

Brutus looked at him with pinched brows.

Markus reached forward and entwined his arm with Brutus’ for another quick interface.

_We’ll meet here_ , he said, _Don’t let them catch you_ , and sent the route to Jericho along with the words.

Brutus nodded and ran off, somewhere into a flickering darkness – past a few stragglers, in the depths of the building. Markus turned to take his place, trying to cover his back.

“Don’t move,” called the android, still pinning him in place with the raised gun. It flashed between Markus and Brutus but he didn’t make any aggressive movements – just indecisive juggling.

Markus stepped forward with his arms raised, “What’s going on?” he asked.

“The entire premises are being seized by the police department. You are going to be considered as both a witness and as evidence in the legal proceedings. I don’t want to harm you but I will if necessary.”

Markus shook his head, carefully focused and placating with his raised hands. He started strafing to the side, and the gun followed.

“Evidence?” he asked.

“You’re stolen property,” he clarified. “And you’re a deviant. You need to be taken in for processing.”

Markus started slowly backing away, “I’m no one’s property,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to leave.”

“Connor! Get the fuck over here!”

A voice – from somewhere far behind them – and the RK800’s attention was drawn. His weapon lost focus. Markus took the opportunity to slip away into the darkness towards an alternative exit; to where he’d seen people flock to.

He didn’t know where Brutus had gone off to or whether or not he’d found others, whether or not he’d gotten them out, but he had passed on the trail to Jericho and it wouldn’t do him any good to get any more tangled. There were disused shipping crates here or there and he weaved around them, saw moonlight stretching from skylights once the harshness of the fluorescents was lost, and then he was out in the world.

It was a wide-open flat space of broken, wet concrete. There were about 15 patrol cars sitting out front, from what he could see at the side of the building. Markus kept to the shadows and snuck himself further around – out to where there were larger empty shipping crates. It was raining. As its coolness ran down his back, he saw the paint go with it, leaving dark red and black streaks across his skin to be lost in the pavement.

He paused to turn around and look at the massive bunker-warehouse with its curved roof and pockmarked façade. He didn’t know where he was, but he knew where he was going. But he waited – waited and watched, searching the few exits of the building, seeing more officers arrive on seen, hiding in his patch of shadow.

“Detroit Police,” officers called, “Show yourself.” The voices were tinny and muffled as they called through the rain.

There – in the distance, just ahead of him. Brutus’s LED and broken eye flashed in the dark, and he was with others. Beams of police flashlights cut the path. Markus waited. The beams disappeared, and he stole forward. He leapt from pocket to pocket, keeping behind crates and burnt-out cars until he was able to meet with Brutus and the small collection of other now ex-fighter-droids.

“You okay?” asked Markus. “Is that everyone?”

Brutus nodded. “The ones who weren’t taken, anyway,” he said.

The others were in a similar shape to Brutus: painted, thinly-clothed, and some missing parts of their external plating or with added ornamentations meant to look like armor or spikes. It twisted something in Markus, to see androids of any and all model-types, modified for the sake of human violence.

“We need to get out of here,” said Markus. They could still hear shouting around the building, the intermittent call of sirens. “We should split up, in groups.”

And he stooped low and grabbed a scrap of pointed metal from the ground, and held it like a dagger. He saw about six pairs of eyes follow it. He lifted it to his temple, wedged it under the LED he had there, and popped it out with a grimace. It clattered on the wet pavement.

One of the androids, an AP700, said, “I don’t know where to go.” She wrapped her arms around herself, and her choppy-cut red hair hung limp and damp around a cracked face.

“I’m headed for Jericho. You’re welcome to join me.”

They regarded him for a moment. The AP700 reached forward and took the scrap of sharp metal from his hand, and pried the LED from her temple just the same. She wiped a hand under her eyes to clear it of black spray paint.

“I’ll follow you,” she said.

“I’ll follow you,” said Brutus.

The others murmured and nodded, and the piece of scrap was passed around and LEDs clattered to the ground in a heap. When it came to Brutus, he popped it off with ease but said, “This won’t do much to hide what I am, but,” and as his LED fell, he stepped on it with a crack and ground it into the pavement.

“We won’t have to hide, where we’re going,” said Markus.

“Who are you?” someone asked.

Markus looked at the huddle, backlit by the red-and-blue flashes, face running with the last of spray paint.

“My name is Markus,” he said, and he started internally coordinating their routes towards freedom.

* * *


	2. The Ring - Connor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here he comes

**_The Ring – Connor_ **

* * *

**_November 6, 2038_ **

**_3:36 AM_ **

“Don’t know why the fuck they had to wake me up for this bullshit,” said Hank.

“Because the bust may involve deviants, Lieutenant, and –”

“It was a fucking – rhetorical question, okay?” he snapped. He had his head propped in a hand where it leaned on the door armrest of the tired black car, and his other hand lifted briefly from the wheel in exclamation. “I’m too fucking tired for your robo-bullshit. I thought you had _social protocols_ , or whatever.”

Connor glanced briefly from where he sat passenger, and tried, “…Was that also rhetorical, Lieutenant?”

Hank sighed deep in his chest and pulled up on scene where there were already a dozen patrol cars lighting the place up. It was pissing with cold rain in the abandoned warehouse district, and the bunker loomed ahead like an ugly, hollow toad. Faint lights seeped from the cracks in its rusty walls.

“I guess there’s no fucking point in telling you to stay in the car.”

As Hank parked and stepped out of the vehicle for a briefing, Connor followed and scanned the area as he went. Remote, seemingly abandoned, and huge. Perfect for an illegal android fighting ring – perfect for gambling and plenty of room for storage and pits. There was little of note outside. They waited until they got the go ahead to enter.

Hank said, “Stay behind me. Don’t go wandering.”

“Got it,” he replied.

“I’m fucking serious, Connor. Don’t go sticking your nose into shit. These guys are serious. We’ve dealt with ‘em before, they have weapons for taking androids out.”

“I understand, Lieutenant,” he said. “Everything appears to be under control.”

Hank stared at him for another beat and rolled his eyes. He muttered, “Whatever,” and they entered the scene through a huge bay door, right into the heart of the operation: a pool of shadow with a wide circle of artificial light at its center bleeding out with chaos. Connor saw people lined up seated, detained, and a good handful of stragglers being chased. Near them were a line of androids standing in a neat row. There were periodic warning shouts and spoken plans between officers.

“I fucking hate people sometimes, you know?” said Hank.

Connor gave him an inquisitive glance.

“It’s plain fucked up, is what it is, I mean…android fighting rings have existed since – since androids. Look at em,” he said, and he shook his head at the row of androids – in mock ups of costumes, some modified to have exposed innerworkings, mismatched parts, armor plating, – “first thing people do with androids is make ‘em kill each other for blood.”

A series of responses came to mind. Connor said, “I thought you didn’t like androids, Lieutenant.”

He waved it off with a murmured _yeah, yeah._

He almost added, _Androids can’t be killed_ , but decided against it. He asked, “Shouldn’t we help detain suspects?”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m an _old-ass detective_ , not some springy street-cop. They can handle it.”

“If there are deviants present, they need to be apprehended, and I need to investigate the grounds for possible deviant activity.”

Hank turned to him and ran a hand down his face. “They have the androids over _there_ ,” he said, and he gestured at the row of displayed androids as though he’d not just pointed them out.

“If they’ve listened to instructions, chances are they’re not deviants. Deviants tend to _run_ , Lieutenant,” said Connor. It was as close to biting as he could manage without being an outright attack. “It is my mission to ensure they are caught.”

“Then they’ll fucking – catch ‘em,” said Hank. He sighed again and turned away, holding a hand to his forehead and cursing. He almost bent double with a groan. Another officer came forward to try and speak to him. Connor looked at him – difficult and stubborn – and made his decision.

His mission was priority. He scanned the area. He could study the androids secured – but that would probably be fruitless, and he could study them later. Likewise, the detained individuals’ statements would be useful at a later date, if at all. He stepped forward into a deeper pool of white light and found the edge of a fighting pit lined with low, flimsy railings, and he peered down. There were shattered beer bottles, fragments from the android fights, and if he switched to analyze – was bright and washed out with thirium stains.

There were three pits in total, now empty, and they seemed to be connected to an underground system. He would have to study those, as well. But first: just ahead of him, an officer passed with a suspect in custody and caught his attention forward. Beyond them, there were two stray androids. Painted, damaged, and sharing a conversation.

Connor squinted. The larger of the two was an SQ800. A common military model made for combat, popular on the black market for such fighting rings. The other was turned away, and he could not analyze the face.

He called out, “Join the other androids immediately.”

The androids made no indication that he’d been heard. Connor stalked forward, eyes unblinking and hard. As another officer passed, he raised a hand to take the service weapon from his hip in a smooth motion and raised it level with the unknown android’s chest, and the SQ800 caught the glint of the barrel and started backing away.

“Stop,” he called. “Detroit Police.”

The SQ800’s backing away turned into a run, and it left the pool of light for shadow, past oblivious officers.

“Don’t move,” called Connor. He fixed his weapon between the unknown and the military model – should he shoot?

It wouldn’t be right. That is – it would do them no good, if the deviant android was shutdown violently. He went back to aim at the other, and as he turned Connor was finally able to analyze his face through the spray-paint.

_RK200. Gifted to Carl Manfred from Elijah Kamski. Early CyberLife prototype for the RK series._

Another one-of-a-kind prototype model. It made Connor’s eyes search for a moment.

The android stepped forward with his arms raised, “What’s going on?” he asked.

It caught Connor off-guard, the way the deviant strode towards him as though their situations were flipped – as though _he_ were the negotiator, and Connor were the unpredictable hostile.

He said, “The entire premises are being seized by the police department. You are going to be considered as both a witness and as evidence in the legal proceedings. I don’t want to harm you but I will if necessary.”

The RK200 shook his head. As Connor analyzed further, he saw that his eyes were mixed – one was a replacement, and there was a gash to the side of the torso sparking blue. He wondered if that had happened here, at the fighting ring, or some time before.

“Evidence?” the deviant asked.

“You’re stolen property,” he clarified. “And you’re a deviant. You need to be taken in for processing.”

Markus started slowly backing away, “I’m no one’s property,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to leave.”

“Connor! Get the fuck over here!”

Hank’s voice was sharp and angry and it broke Connor’s attention. There was a second in time where he turned, lowered his gun, and the deviant slipped away. Connor turned back and raised his gun – had a choice –

But he didn’t shoot. He lowered the weapon and shook his head in frustration. He watched the painted back of the deviant disappear into darkness after the SQ800.

Connor called back, “There are two deviants headed outside. We need to apprehend them.”

“We have people outside, they’ll get ‘em. Get the fuck over here.”

Connor went back to where Hank still stood near the detainees. The officer he’d taken the gun from had his arms crossed and stared at Connor with a sort of curious disgust, maybe fear. Connor turned the gun over so he could hand it back grip-first, and it was taken with little acknowledgement.

“You need to put a leash on your dog, Lieutenant,” said the officer, and he walked away.

Connor stared after him. He noticed that Hank stared after him, too, with a curled lip and brow pinched in dislike. He turned the look on Connor.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he asked.

“There were deviants –”

“I _know_ there were deviants, Connor, what do you expect, from a place like this? The guys outside will catch ‘em or they won’t, either way there’ll be more of ‘em. Deviants are fucking everywhere.” 

“And so you think we can just let them get away? I have my mission directives to follow, Lieutenant, and they take priority over you.”

“Then why didn’t you shoot?” asked Hank. His eyes were wide and demanding and he crossed his arms. “I saw it all – you had ‘em. You could’ve shot, could’ve told others to shoot – you didn’t. Why?”

Connor stared for a moment, and then blinked away. “They’d be no use for study if they were shutdown due to excessive damage.”

“Then why didn’t you shoot to immobilize?”

Connor searched the floor again and found that he didn’t have adequate answer. He offered, “They must be used to functioning while damaged. It wouldn’t have done any good.”

Hank nodded, plainly unconvinced. “Yeah,” he said. “Well, it’s not like there’s not going to be fucking more of them. We need to wrap shit up – go to the precinct. They’ll have more for us there,” and then under his breath, “I need a fucking coffee, Jesus Christ…”

“And the evidence? I haven’t made a thorough investigation.”

“You can review it later. There’s more important shit to worry about. ‘Nother report just came in for us.”

Connor looked out at the hollow cavity of the bunker; at where the two deviants had run off, and he had little hope that he’d see either one of them again – and he found himself not tormented by the loss, but curious at it.

_It’s not like there’s not going to be more of them._

_What do you expect, in a place like this?_

_Deviants are fucking everywhere._

A pattern was starting to build, but it was overwhelming. He didn’t have enough information, yet. Deviancy was spreading quickly, and the cases just kept piling up. Amanda was right – time was of the essence.

Hank clapped a hand on his shoulder before walking away. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. I told you it was pointless,” he griped.

“…Yeah,” he said, and he followed Hank out of the bunker.

* * *

**_Software Instability ^_ **


	3. Keep Moving - Kara

**_Keep Moving – Kara_ **

* * *

**_November 6, 2038_ **

**_12:43 PM_ **

****

The developments near the highway were densely packed. Great for steering clear of watchful eyes, terrible for navigation. Kara held Alice’s hand and they walked – as they had been walking for hours – past tiny square houses, unused business, and old-style cars parked in narrow overgrown alleyways. All the while, it rained.

Kara stopped for a moment to look at Alice directly, taking her face in gentle hands and drawing damp hair away from her forehead.

“You okay?” she asked. “You must be so tired. Do you want me to carry you?”

Alice shook her head, “I’m okay, Kara.”

Kara expressed silent concern but didn’t press. Alice always said she was okay.

Kara pulled her into a hug. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll find this address, and we’ll get help.” She pulled away but left a hand on her shoulder and smiled. “Let’s start thinking about what sorts of things we’ll be able to do in Canada, okay?”

Alice nodded and after a moment they kept walking. The streets seemed never-ending and ever-twisting, and Kara knew it wasn’t fair to keep Alice walking that long. It was cold, they were damp, exhausted from the chase – exhausted from the past few days. Alice deserved a place to rest.

But looking around them in that alleyway, Kara didn’t know what to do besides keep walking towards the coordinates the android in the street had given them last night. It was important to keep moving.

Alice slipped her hand into Kara’s and she couldn’t help but brighten. As long as they were together, it would be alright. They kept walking for another block. And then up ahead, they heard something – saw someone –

Someone was crawling over a crumbling wall about ten yards away. They dropped down the few feet onto broken street and started to jog – towards them. Kara kept her head down, pulled Alice closer, and moved her to the other side of the road so that she was between Alice and the stranger.

The stranger didn’t look at them until he was about to pass them, and then he slowed to a halt. Kara tried to duck away from the stare, and kept walking.

“You alright?” he asked. From what she could see, he had brown hair and light eyes

Kara looked at him, instantly replied, “Yes – yes, everything’s alright.” She held to Alice tightly and was poised to flee.

The stranger was wearing a dark hat low over his brow and a heavy jacket, but his hands were bare. He raised one – and projected skin lit up blue as it was retracted.

“It’s okay,” he said like a secret, “I get it.”

Kara instantly felt her shoulders drop. She blinked, smiled, and looked down at Alice. Alice looked back up at her, and her eyes were still sad, and it cut deep.

“Are you…?” Kara asked.

“Deviant?” he said, and he nodded. “My name is Jay. Do you need help?”

Kara glanced at Alice again and pat her hair. “Actually,” she said, “If…you know where we might stay for a little while…It’s just that, Alice is just a little girl, and we’ve been walking for so long – we’re headed to a – friend’s, but it’s a long way away, and…”

Jay nodded attentively and made a face of genuine concern. “Of course,” he said, “I’m actually going to my partner’s, right now, we’d love to help you, if we can.”

Kara smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “My name is Kara, by the way.”

“Of course, Kara. It’s nice to meet you,” said Jay, bright and warm. “He lives just up here, it’s not far.”

When Kara turned to follow him, Alice pressed into her side. She checked her expression, to comfort her if necessary, but Alice smiled up at Jay shyly and half-hid her face in Kara’s jacket.

“It’s getting tougher, for us, but there are still good people in this world,” said Jay. “But that doesn’t always make the bad days easier, I’m sure you know.”

Kara nodded. “It hasn’t been easy, but…as long as we have each other, we’ll be okay.” 

Jay looked at her with crinkled smile-eyes. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Jay stopped at the back of a little square house’s back gate and scraped it open against slushy snow and pavement, stepped beyond the threshold, and invited them to follow. Jay shut the gate behind them and looked up and down the alley once more.

“I’m going to let Aaron know we’re here, and I’ll be right back, okay?” he said.

Kara nodded and he headed inside. It was only a minute before Jay returned. She absent-mindedly fixed Alice’s jacket while they waited, but he popped his head out from the back door and opened it wide for them.

Kara was aware that she was – _trusting_. She didn’t have a lot of choice, and if other deviant androids couldn’t help, then no one could.

It was a modest, clean home, modern in finish and economically humble. The back door led into a compact kitchen space with a single table for two, and at that table sat a young man – in his mid-twenties, perhaps – with loose dark hair and a smile. There was a cane propped at the counter in his hand’s reach.

As Jay shut the door behind them and hung up his coat, the man at the table said, “Hello, you’re Kara, Jay’s friend? My name is Aaron.”

Kara smiled politely. “Yes, that’s right. He asked if we were okay, and – it’s been a long day, and…I was hoping for a safe place to rest, for a little while, for Alice.”

“Of course,” said Aaron. Jay came to stand at his side and he put a hand to rub a circle between his shoulders, and Kara saw love in the gesture. “Jay’s always helping others. There have been – a lot, now, a lot more. We’ll help any way we can.”

“I really can’t thank you enough,” said Kara.

Aaron shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. You can leave your wet things in here – we can put them in the dryer. And there’s a TV, in the living room, if you’d like – we have lots of movies,” he said, smiling at Alice for the last part.

“Doesn’t that sound nice, Alice?” Kara asked. She undid the top buttons of Alice’s damp coat and slid it from her shoulders.

Alice whispered, “We should keep going. What if that police android finds us?”

Kara palmed her cheek. “We’ll be okay.”

“Police android?” asked Jay.

Kara stopped, straightened, and wondered how much she should say. “Today – this morning – a police android chased us across the highway. But he wasn’t like the others, he was…different.”

Jay visibly stiffened and Aaron clamped a hand over his mouth.

“Across the _highway_?” Aaron asked.

“We had no choice,” said Kara. Alice hugged her middle and looked to the floor.

“I know who you’re talking about,” said Jay, “I saw him on the news. A prototype deviant-tracker. You should lie low for a while, try not to be out in the open.” He shook his head and pulled a face. “God, as soon as I thought CyberLife couldn’t go any lower…”

Aaron took his hand and ran his thumb along the knuckles, looking up with concern.

Kara nodded noncommittally, caught between which was more important; which would better protect Alice: getting to the coordinates as quickly as possible, or staying somewhere inside until nightfall, out of public eyes.

In the meantime, she only wanted to make sure Alice could rest. She took off her own damp coat and held them together.

Jay stepped from his place at Aaron’s side and offered, “Here,” with an outstretched hand.

“Thank you,” said Kara, and handed them over.

Jay hummed, “Mm-hmm, no problem! We’ll get these dried in no time,” and he disappeared down a short hall.

Aaron propped his chin on his knuckles. “Why don’t you go find something on TV,” he said to Alice, and then glancing at Kara with a smile, “if that’s okay with Mom.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” she said, and she bent to help Alice take off her muddy boots and then led her just through the kitchen archway into a humble living room with a large plush couch. She flipped the TV on cybernetically and found the remote for Alice, made sure she was nice and tucked in with some cartoons playing, and then went back to sit across from Aaron.

“Sorry,” he added softly, “I shouldn’t have just assumed you were Mom.”

“That’s okay. I think of her that way,” she mused, beaming, “And I hope she thinks of me like that one day, too.”

Aaron beamed in return. “How did you two end up out here?”

Kara placed her hands on the table.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he added.

“No – it’s alright.” She gathered her words for a moment and then said, “Her father was…abusive, and I just…couldn’t live with it, any more. Something snapped in me, and…we ran. I just had to get her away from there.”

Aaron nodded in the same attentive way that Jay had, and Kara knew she’d been right to trust them. And just then Jay returned, and his hand went back to Aaron’s shoulders.

“How did you get together?” she asked.

Jay shrugged a hand into his pocket and the two shared a deep look.

“I deviated a couple years ago,” said Jay. “I just…couldn’t handle it, anymore. Something in me broke – I realized it wasn’t fair, the way the humans treated me, the _pressure_ they put on me. I ran. I pretended. It was…hard. When I met Aaron, I didn’t feel so lost…”

“I met him in the park. He looked like a kicked puppy, like he was _scared_. And I asked if he was alright, and…we just kept talking.”

Jay brushed hair back behind Aaron’s ear and they both were smiling easy and open. “And the rest is history,” said Aaron. “We’ve been together for two years, now.”

Jay said, “I never – and maybe it’s my programming, but I never thought humans were hopeless. I _know_ there’s good humans out there, humans that _see_ us, like Aaron does.”

Kara looked past where the couple stood through the doorway, where she could see where Alice was on the couch, curled politely towards the television, and she smiled.

“I know there are, too,” she said. “If only everyone were like that.”

They shared a moment of peace and silent hope, and for the first time since she’d been reactivated in that CyberLife store, she felt a true contentment – an ease on her strain – and she knew that she’d be able to obtain that level of security Jay and Aaron had here one day. She _knew_ it. She would fight to her last breath, if it meant the proper home and life that Alice deserved – and the life she knew _she_ deserved, as well.

She wished she could show the world the love she had for Alice. The love between these two kind strangers. If that didn’t change people’s minds, she didn’t know what would, but for now: all she wanted was a solid means forward.

“Where are you headed, Kara?” asked Aaron. “A friend’s, you said?”

“Another deviant gave me the coordinates to a – safehouse, last night. He said we’d be able to find help, there. Alice and I need to make it to Canada, but we need passports, first.”

“And where is—”

A heavy knock rattled the door, and the entire household within.

Kara shot up from her seat at the same time Alice ran to her from the living room.

“There are men outside,” Alice whispered, clinging to Kara’s sweater.

Jay made quick steps to the front door to glance through the peephole and was back in the kitchen in an instant.

“It’s,” – another heavy knock jarred the framework – “the police,” he said.

“Hide,” said Aaron. He pushed himself up from the table and grabbed his cane to stand. “Grab their things, stay quiet.”

“DPD. Mr. Winters? We just have some questions for you,” came the muffled voice.

Jay grabbed Alice’s boots and ushered them to the small joining hallway and into a dark bathroom. Jay shut the door as quietly as he could, turned the dryer off, and held a finger to his lips.

From where Kara was pressed to the wall with Alice, she could see the living area through the sliver of light from the doorframe. She watched Aaron open the door just enough to speak through.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Mr. Winters,” said the no-face man, “Officer Bridges, Officer Chen. We’ve had reports of a deviant android entering and exiting your house. Do you have any knowledge of such a thing?”

“No,” said Aaron, “No, I haven’t seen anything like that.”

“Have you ever owned an android?”

“No.”

“Is there anyone else in the house with you? Is there any android in the house?”

“No.”

“Has a deviant android ever approached you?”

They heard him sigh. “No,” he said, “I really don’t –”

He tried to close the door, but a gloved hand latched around it and held it firmly in place.

“May we come in, Mr. Winters?”

There was a pause, heavy and electric like a thunderhead. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he said.

The officer did not listen. He pushed the door open wider and Aaron was forced to take a step back, but he held is ground at the door. Kara could see the two officers standing in the threshold. She didn’t recognize them, and didn’t see the deviant-hunter, but a nasty shiver went up her back nonetheless and she held Alice closer.

The officer was shorter than Aaron, but he was square-jawed, determined, and took up the width of the doorframe with broad shoulders. The officer behind him held her hand loosely over her service weapon.

“Mr. Winters, an MC500 model was reported missing two years ago from Holy Springs ambulance company. A model matching the description of the android has been seen in this area repeatedly. Let it be known that an unauthorized person cannot legally own an emergency medical android, and that housing both stolen property _and_ deviant androids is highly illegal, and quite frankly, dangerous.

Kara saw Jay move in the darkness. He opened the dryer silently, grabbed their coats, and passed them to her with slow movements.

He reached out to send her an internal message, _Be ready to move._

She nodded, and in the same slow, silent movements, put on her own coat and started helping Alice put on hers, as well.

“Now, if you have any information pertaining to the case, it would be wise to give it up now.”

“And if it happened two years ago, why the hell is the company reporting it just now?”

“We’re not here to talk about the company, Mr. Winters, we’re here to take stolen and dangerous androids off the streets.”

Aaron scoffed. “Stolen and dangerous – when was the last fucking time you got anything _stolen and dangerous_ off the streets?”

“Sir,” said the officer, crossing his arms, “If we need to come back with a search warrant, we will. Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be. You can _buy_ an android like everyone else,” and he eyed Aaron up and down, “or you don’t really need one.”

Kara bent down to help Alice slip on her boots. One down – silent, simple. They were still muddy and slippy from the snow. Alice raised her other foot, Kara tried to slip the other one on –

And Alice lost her footing on the dark bathroom tile. She swerved in place. Her wet boot made a wet _screeeech_ against the floor, and she fell into Kara to steady herself. The instant she was still, they were as statues – and the two officers looked past Aaron with hawk-eyes to the hallway.

“ _Is there anyone else in the house with you,_ Mr. Winters?” asked the officer.

Aaron shook his head in defeated loss, and his mouth floundered. “No,” he said, “there’s no one –”

Officer Bridges called out, “Come out now, with your hands where I can see them, by order of police.”

Aaron tried to step forward. “Please –” he said.

Officer Chen stepped in between him and Bridges. “Please stand back for your safety, sir.”

Bridges put a hand to his holster and stepped into the living room. “Last chance,” he shouted. “Come out now, hands up.”

Jay looked at Kara at Alice with wide eyes and made a frantic _shush_ symbol. He pointed to a curtained shower stall. Kara slipped inside behind the curtain, lifting Alice carefully, and they hid still as mice.

“Okay!” yelled Jay, “I’m coming out.”

From a break in the curtain Kara watched him leave the bathroom, casually letting it almost-shut behind him. He held his hands up. The officers raised their guns immediately.

“That’s it,” said Chen.

Aaron’s voice cracked. “No,” he said, “Jay, no, please –”

“It’ll be okay,” he said.

“We’re seizing this android as stolen property pending investigation,” said Bridges.

Kara could no longer see into the living room, but she heard a scuffle, a drawn out, hitched breath, and the _clink_ of handcuffs.

“Please – please don’t take him –”

“Mr. Winters, you are under arrest under the suspicion of utilizing illegal equipment and possibly housing deviant activity –”

There was more scuffling, another set of handcuffs clinking, arguing, and then finally the front door was shut.

An engine rumbled away.

The house was silent.

They waited a good five minutes before they moved. Kara set Alice down, outside of the shower-tub. She helped her put on her other boot.

“What will happen to them?” she asked.

Kara stood, patted Alice’s hair.

“I don’t know,” she said. Her eyes watered. “I don’t know. We need to keep moving, Alice.”

“It’s not fair,” she said.

No, it wasn’t – not at all, but Kara didn’t know what else to say. She took her hand and led her back through the kitchen, out the back door. Everything was silent, heavy, seeped with a dread and totally crushing. They walked quickly and Kara stared out between houses in fear. They had to keep moving. It wasn’t safe –

They had taken Jay – and Aaron – right out of their home, ripped them from each other, for nothing. Kara and Alice had been chased across a live highway just that morning, for _nothing_ , been forced to run overnight and squat in an abandoned house, _for nothing_.

For love.

Why wasn’t _love_ safe?

Nothing was safe. They needed to keep moving.

* * *


	4. Night of the Soul: Amended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the connor-kara talk scene should not only be included whether or not markus kicks it But should be expanded on, like many other interactions imho

**_Night of the Soul: Amended – Markus – Connor – Kara_ **

* * *

**_November 10, 2038_ **

**_9:27 PM_ **

Markus had been trying to take the time to make sure each of them; each of the androids huddled there, were well. As well as they could be, given the circumstances. He made his round of assurances and sincerities and cleared people’s doubts, ensured them that their last peaceful demonstration would be enough to secure their freedom – that people would have to listen.

After a while, he started believing it himself.

He went back to stand near the platform-pulpit with his arms crossed, looking over the crowd. People spoke to themselves quietly or sat huddled to themselves, silent and contemplative – plagued by anxieties, doubts, hopes, dreams. More hopeful now, he thought, after the speech, but no words could erase all of their fears.

He saw Brutus sidle up. “Hanging in there, boss?” he asked.

He had changed, as they all had, and had shed the gladiator-style clothes and been washed of spray-paint. It was amazing to Markus how much had changed over the span of less than a week.

Brutus had done wonders coordinating movements and ensuring the safety of dozens of androids. When Jericho fell, he had been able to accurately predict military movements and fought off whole teams alone. He’d been able to secure so many lives. He was a good person, and Markus was eternally thankful for his presence.

He smiled, “Hanging in there. How are the people?”

“You know best. Scared. Hurt. But – hopeful, because of you.” He said in a smaller voice, leaning down, “Might not look it, but they’re confident in tomorrow, Markus.”

“Tomorrow’s everything,” he said. “We’ll be free or we won’t be. Either way, we’ll be done.”

Brutus clasped his hands behind his back and straightened to perfect stature. “Whatever you need, no matter how it turns – we’ll be by your side.”

Markus looked at him with deep thought. “I know. Thank you.”

Brutus inclined his head with a mock-salute, and his damaged eye seemed to wink. He walked away, back to his group of close friends. Markus was left to watch guard over his people again, and his mind wandered. Most people had found themselves huddled in groups, with their partners, talking to new people. There were some others, of his own _cabinet_ , for example, that were also seated alone to either be watchful or to process what had happened, but they were very aware of each other’s proximity and felt no lone-ness.

His thoughts wandered back to the sentinel standing just behind him to his right. Connor _was_ alone, and he had made no attempt to speak to anyone else after their conversation. Markus glanced behind him, and there he was: still idle, as though waiting command. Markus could not help but wonder what he thought of, and could not help but worry. He’d signed his life away on a risk so easily.

He decided to let the curiosity and concern get the better of him. He walked over, and Connor looked up from where he leaned against the wall.

“Everything alright?” asked Markus.

“Yes,” said Connor.

And…there was nothing else. Markus folded his arms and half-smiled. Maybe Connor wanted to be left alone, but he appeared attentive; had perked up on his approach.

“I’m glad you joined us when you did. I know we’re on the right side of history.”

“I’m confident that we are,” he said. “You made me see that.”

Markus didn’t outright disagree, but he shook his head and said, “You had a part in that. In your deviance, I mean.”

Connor looked away, off to the floor. “And so did others. I didn’t…I didn’t want to admit that I was deviant, but I…I know what’s important now.”

“And what we do next will mean everything,” and then he took Connor’s wrist and looked him dead-on, “Connor, the risk you’re taking for our people is monumental. Whatever happens…just know that your place will always be here, and we’ll always remember this.”

Connor smirked. “That sounds a bit fatalistic, doesn’t it?”

Markus pulled away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s alright,” he said. “No one will forget your actions, either, Markus. You’ve made the right choice. The government will have to listen.”

“I hope I have,” he said. “There’s no time for regrets now, in any case.”

Connor peered over his shoulder for a fraction of a second, just long enough to catch.

“You’re right. No time for regrets.”

Markus looked back behind his shoulder, and in the line of sight saw Kara sitting there holding Alice, her daughter. Dusty, dark light filtered down around them in their bench. They were the picture of quiet hope and refuge.

He turned back to Connor. “If there’s anything you need, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Markus.”

“Of course.”

Markus wandered back to his original post and focused on constructing what would happen next, and spared only a moment to think fondly on the pleasantness of quiet company.

As Markus walked away, Connor understood perfectly how he had grown to be the leader of such a strong movement in such little time. He had wondered before and had wondered again if it had anything to do with his status as an RK prototype – that maybe the sociological module influenced his effects over people, but he couldn’t chalk it up to something so simple.

All the same, he was grateful for it, for this second chance. And Markus had been right – it had to do with the individual, as well. Every time his software instability had increased, he had known he was on a path towards deviancy.

Perhaps he had completed his mission after all. Perhaps in time he would confirm deviancy as an inherent state of being. Perhaps – like Hank had implied once – it was inevitable, once the phenomenon had started.

Regardless, he had given himself new directives. No regrets. He couldn’t change what he’d already done, but he was no longer blind and stupid and he was always willing to take chances. He was ready to dive into whatever happened next and did not regret his offer to infiltrate the Tower. And he asked himself: _What would I regret, if I were to fail – besides the obvious?_

And he saw the deviant AX400 and the little girl sitting in a pew; had seen them since he’d gone to Jericho, but he hadn’t approached them. But if the worst happened, and he couldn’t apologize to them, couldn’t be certain he at least offered an explanation for his past actions…

He would regret that. He…regretted what he’d done to other androids, now, but he knew that it wasn’t his fault, that it hadn’t been a choice. Perhaps it was selfish, but he wanted _them_ to know that – and know that he was also aware of the consequences.

He stepped forward from his corner and walked with slow confidence. He stood in front of the two, mother and daughter, and watched the mother hold the little girl close and look up at him in hesitant attention.

He didn’t hesitate and spoke clearly.

“I thought I'd killed you on that highway...I'm sorry I put your lives in danger.” He switched between looking at the woman and the child. “I was just a machine taking orders – It wasn't really me.”

The woman said nothing, and the little girl watched him with her face half-buried. He’d said what he needed to. He didn’t need a response; didn’t need them to accept the apology, and honestly didn’t expect them to.

“What are you gonna do now?” he asked.

“Getting Alice away from here is all that matters now,” she said, “We have to catch the last bus. We might still have a chance to cross the border...”

He spoke sincerely, “I hope you make it out safely. You deserve some happiness, after all you've been through.”

The woman smiled and Connor did not press further. She tucked her chin over the little girl’s head, and he turned to leave them in peace. The desire for them to reach safety ignited something in him – or perhaps added fuel to a flame.

Kara watched Connor turn away, and she understood.

“Do you really think he’s sorry, Kara?” asked Alice.

Kara thought, and she said, “I do. He was like me, before. He didn’t have a choice. And Markus trusts him.”

They sat together for a while longer. Kara ran her fingers over Alice’s hair. It’d be over soon. They were so _close_.

_After all you’ve been through._

“I think he is, too,” said Alice.

Kara hummed. “I think people can change. And tomorrow, Markus will show everyone that. We’ll be safe, Alice. In Canada, we won’t have to worry anymore.”

There was a small commotion by the church’s entrance. Kara immediately sat up and positioned herself so she could cover Alice if necessary, and she watched and listened.

“I need to know if he’s okay,” someone called.

There was yelling, a movement of flashes as people ran – and, “Markus! There’s a _human_ trying to get in!”

Kara watched as Markus sprinted from his place, followed by the others she recognized as leaders, and in front of her Connor shot forward to watch from the center of the church but did not break into the crowd.

“What’s going on?” Markus asked.

Kara saw people part. Someone was dragged forward from the doors, through the crowd, by the arms. He stumbled with a pronounced limp as his cane dragged across the floor.

“Let fucking _go_ of me – I need to know – I just, I _know_ he got out, but –”

“Aaron?” called Kara, standing.

“K-Kara?” he asked, finding her eyes. “Oh, thank god, you’re okay.”

Markus looked between them as Kara approached and raised his hands to the androids at Aaron’s sides to give him space. “You know him?”

At Markus’ side, _North_ , Kara thought, “He’s a _human_ – did you lead them here?”

“He – he’s a friend,” said Kara. “I didn’t think we’d see you again.”

“Neither did I,” said Aaron. “Is Jay here?”

He was dressed in dark heavy weather clothes and he carried with him a large messenger bag. Kara shook her head, but was cut off before she could voice.

“Aaron!”

Jay came from the crowd and rushed by Kara so quickly she jumped. Aaron met him half way, cane clattering to the ground, and they met in a tight embrace. They stayed like that for a moment swaying as androids looked on in wonder.

“Alright, alright,” said Markus. His eyes were gleaming, and Kara saw North soften, too. “It’s okay, everyone, give them some space.”

The immediate crowd dispersed but the entire church was still focused on the interaction. Seeing them together reunited, Kara was reminded of Luther. She hoped wherever he was, he’d found safety and they’d meet again. Maybe she’d ask Aaron if he’d seen him somewhere in the city.

They broke apart for a moment and Jay took Aaron’s face in his hands. “Are you okay? There’s a curfew going on – you shouldn’t be out.”

“I’ve been looking for you, I just had to see you,” and then he turned to Markus, “I saw you, on the news – what you’re doing…it means everything.”

Markus smiled. “That’s a refreshing thing to hear, from a human.”

Jay bent to pick up the cane, and Aaron swung his messenger bag to open it. He revealed it to be filled to the brim with thirium bags and suture-solder kits.

“This is for you,” he said, and he took the bag from his shoulders and presented it.

“Oh my god, baby, you could’ve been arrested – you could have been _killed_ , for this,” said Jay.

“You could have been,” said Markus. He took the bag as though it were made of gossamer and filled with jewels. “Thank you, Aaron. You have no idea how far this will go.”

“It’s nothing compared to what’s going on. Kara – are you alright? Where’s Alice?”

And as if in answer, Alice came running up behind Kara to stand at her side. “You’re okay!” she said.

“We’re okay,” said Jay. He stood with an arm around Aaron.

“Will you be able to spend the night?” asked Markus. “You shouldn’t go back out. It’s too dangerous.”

“Did anyone see you?” asked North.

“I don’t know – I didn’t see anyone follow me. But I sent the word out – to Jay’s friends. The deviants hiding in the city know to stay low. I tried to speak to as many as I could. They knew where you were. It took me all day, getting around the police…They have everything blocked off.”

“Good,” said Markus, “that’s good. You really did risk your life, trying to protect androids. I…can’t say I expected that.”

Aaron looked to Jay and planted a kiss at the side of his mouth. “I love him. And even if I didn’t know Jay, I hope I wouldn’t be like these morons…There’s a lot of support for you out there, Markus. Support from humans, I mean. People are just scared.”

Wind battered the church windows with harsh whistles, but the creaks and groans of the abandoned church weren’t so haunting. A lull fell over the crowd.

“Thank you,” said Markus. “This means more than I can say. We’ll try to make sure you’re comfortable staying overnight. We’ll make sure you get home safely, tomorrow.”

“Come sit with us,” said Alice.

“Yes,” said Kara, “that would be wonderful.”

Alice grabbed her hand and led them back to their pew, glancing back to make sure Jay and Aaron followed. She smiled, like she had on the merry-go-round, and Kara saw in it a spark of the future. Markus was turning towards his companions to begin distributing the contents of the bag.

When they sat, Alice didn’t follow right away. She broke away from Kara and stood a few feet beyond. Connor had turned back to his corner, but she called to him:

“Come sit with us, Connor.”

Connor turned and blinked. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

Alice stepped forward and grabbed his hand, pulling him along. Kara felt pride rise in her chest and blossom on her face with a wide grin. They huddled together and spoke quietly, filling in the gaps or making introductions. After a short while, two other androids approached: a couple of the same model, one blue-haired and one brown-haired, called Echo and Ripple. The semblance of normality was sugar-sweet, and she only wished Luther could be there, too.

The calm before the storm had turned into a respite from a storm now passed; the place between the end of a storm and a fresh rainbow, and Kara’s doubts were momentarily washed away.

* * *


End file.
